At Peace Burger, This Dude Looks Like a Lady

(Editors' note: Technically speaking, Hanna is NOT a dude, but since she's capable of riding a bike from downtown Dallas to downtown Grapevine to eat a bowl of chili, we're not going to be the one to tell her. She might kick our asses.)

I don't usually meddle in the Dude Food category, but I have a feeling the folks behind Peace Burger would be terribly disappointed if they didn't make the Dude cut. Not that they'd cry about it or anything, of course.

Peace Burger serves hot wings, flavorful shrimp tacos, burritos crammed with French fries and Sonoran-style hot dogs, wrapped in thick strips of bacon and doused with queso and beans. But the namesake sandwich gets most of the attention at this strip-mall joint, which makes good use of ingredients swiped from the kitchen of a sister taqueria. There's chorizo on the Macho Burger, poblanos on the Peace Burger and habanero sauce on the Hell's Burger, helpfully labeled as "a SPICY burger. Don't order if you're a wussy. No returns."

I'm not a wussy, but since I was already two meals in for the day -- and worried my sure-to-be-unfinished burger would be misread as cowardice -- I went for the Tijuana burger, topped with guacamole, Monterey Jack cheese, jalapenos, ham and a hot dog.
I've never been to Tijuana, so I don't know if eaters there swear by hot dog-thirds on their beef patties. The dog used here was a super-salty ballpark-style frank that did add a sort of interesting texture to the sandwich, which sat on a poppy-seed bun. But I think the problem with putting a hot dog on a hamburger is it destroys any notions of discipline. Why stop at a hot dog? Why not add an egg? And bacon? And blue cheese?

Peace Burger's apparently wondered that too, because all those toppings are on the menu. None of it's healthy, but Peace Burger -- which proudly doesn't put any sissy vegetables like lettuce on its burgers -- reserves that adjective for just one menu item: Beer. And it comes in a can.